One Man Ghosted Me This Year

I was out with friends the other night. We ran into a guy that my friend dated last year. She was seeking closure. Why wouldn’t she?

He ghosted her.

As I walked away, I heard her speak these words…

“I get it,” she says. “I get your reasons. I’m fine with that. But why didn’t you reach out to me? Why did you leave me hanging? Why didn’t you call me, or text me?”

I didn’t stay to hear the answer.

They deserve privacy.

But it did remind me of a man.

The one man who ghosted me this past year.

I’d never been ghosted before. There’s a first time for everything. Welcome to the world of technological dating. It had to happen sometime.

I spent a lot of tears on that man.

I didn’t foresee that liquid expenditure.

I didn’t anticipate ghosting.

I would’ve sworn I was right about him. I would’ve said he was one of the best men I’d ever met. I thought he was the kind of man who went above, and beyond for others.

Ghosting didn’t just hurt me.

It made me evaluate a man.

I liked this guy because of his character. I thought he was a man who stepped forward when others stepped back. I thought he was fearless. I thought he was a leader.

I expected more of him.

I was disappointed in him.

It felt cowardly.

It hurt.

It’s not the end of the world. This stuff happens in the hemisphere of love and relationships. It’s a part of the package. You can’t blame someone for moving on, or not returning your feelings.

But ghosting makes it more painful.

I tried to rationalize it.

I told myself he was scared to face me. I told myself he cautioned me things wouldn’t end well. I told myself life is complicated. I told myself he had his reasons.

But all of those reasons fell flat.

They were all about him.

None of them were about me.

This wasn’t about the depth of his feelings for me. You don’t have to be crazy about someone to do the right thing. You don’t have to be crazy about someone to let them go with care.

Or to say goodbye with respect.

Ghosting meant I was meaningless.

It’s what ghosting implies. It leaves you feeling insignificant. It takes an obvious pain waiting to be inflicted, and delivers it with an unwanted intensity.

One man ghosted me.

Ghosting made him a contradiction.

All of the things I found sexy about him were swept away.

It’s one thing to not see a man again. It’s another thing to realize they may never have been who you thought they were.

It’s worse.

Obviously, there are practical reasons people hurt, or ghost one another. I’ve turned down nice men because I’ve experienced trauma at the hands of a man I spent too many decades with.

Even nice people may ghost someone.

It happens.

You meet someone, and it feels awkward. You don’t want to be unkind, or you don’t know what to say so you don’t respond. On the flip side, it might be someone who makes you uncomfortable so you go radio silent.

I’m pragmatic.

There are legitimate reasons people ghost one another.

The world of dating is not black and white.

But if a connection exists it can be painful.

I accepted the hypothetical reasons one man ghosted me. What didn’t I do? I didn’t respect it. It felt like a boy running away, not a man stepping up.

I can accept a harsh reality delivered to me, even when unwanted.

But leaving someone hurting, wondering, guessing, and searching for answers…No. It may be self-protecting. It may be avoidance. It may be an otherwise good person not wanting to hurt someone.

It may be someone who doesn’t know what to say.

I get it.

I understand.

But I understand something else. When a man ghosted me I realized we’d never shared what I thought we’d shared. He had his world, and I was inconsequential.

Ghosting delivered a powerful message.

He wasn’t thinking about me.

He had zero concern for me.

He did not care what ghosting would do to me, or how it would further hurt me.

He protected himself at my expense.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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